


Promises #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 25

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [25]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffableValentines2020, AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Gay Sex, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Valentines (Good Omens), Ineffable Valentines 2020 (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Valentines, ineffable valentines, not quite 6000 years of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Human AU, Crowley is a horticulture student, and Aziraphale is studying theology. They become best friends and make a promise that if neither of them is married by the time they’re 40, they’ll get hitched. Both think the other has forgotten. Cue a couple of decades of pining and missed opportunities before fate finally brings them together.Concept byfoulfiend1984.I've tried to do a condensed slow burn, to get their story into a shorter format while still hopefully doing it justice so it doesn't feel rushed. It is longer than the other valentine's prompts, but it needed the length to make it work for the concept.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Oscar Wilde, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Sergeant Shadwell (Good Omens), Crowley/Young Shadwell (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618783
Comments: 57
Kudos: 313
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs, Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Promises #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 25

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts), [foulfiend1984](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=foulfiend1984).



> I shared a photo of the book that Crowley gives Aziraphale at the end. I found it at a PBFA bookfair several years ago, coincidentally on Valentine's day.

They’d met at college. Well, not at the same college, but in the same town. They’d found themselves each on a pub crawl with their fellow students in town that night, and wound up in the same pub together, crashed a quiz night and were on neighbouring tables. Naturally, Aziraphale’s group won the quiz and the entire pot of entry money plus some bottles of bubbly for their team.  
  
They’d generously shared the champers with Crowley’s table and the two groups had had fun chatting. Crowley’s lot were from the agricultural college, where he was studying horticulture, Aziraphale’s group were from the local University where Aziraphale was studying theology, whilst also helping to run the University library. 

They’d hit it off immediately, somehow. Crowley’s tall, gangly frame relaxing under the influence of quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol, drowning his usual nerves as he found himself sitting next to the thickset muscular youth whose blonde hair fairly glowed like a halo around his head with the backlighting from a wall sconce lamp behind him. 

They sat and drank and watched their friends pair off, both politely declining the advances of several girls from each other’s parties. Anathema, another University student, tried to drape herself over Crowley’s lap before he stealthily diverted her attention to his friend Newt who had been studying land management sciences after failing abysmally to get anywhere in computer science at regular college. She happily got chatting to Newt and slid over on to his lap as Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he wasn’t into girls too, but he was more interested in Aziraphale at that point.

He and Aziraphale exchanged a little glance, a little “I noticed” glance, questioning, as each began to wonder if their gaydar was functioning properly or if it was just the alcohol. Neither was brave enough to find out. They sat side by side, companionably, drank their drinks, and waffled over whatever popped into their heads. In Crowley’s case it was “do plants have ears?” It was that time of the evening and level of alcohol where conversations ended up in such realms. He proposed testing his theory by yelling at the aspidistras in one of the college greenhouses and seeing if they grew any better than the ones he didn’t shout at. Aziraphale just looked confused. 

After that, Aziraphale attempted to explain, also through a haze of alcohol, what his theology course involved. Crowley, of course getting the wrong end of the stick. “So you gonna be a vicar then?” 

“Oh no, not at all, I mean that’s an option, a popular one, to go to a seminary after studying theology, but it’s by no means a requirement. I just have a fascination with old religious texts, and it’s important to have a grounding in the subject, as I plan to do a postgraduate and eventually get a doctorate with that as my thesis concept.”

Crowley looked at him blankly. He hadn’t really understood a word. “But it’s all religious stuff, yeah, god, satan, angels and demons and that kind of thing?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Not really, no…” But he didn’t get to carry on because Crowley was gazing at him in a drunken stupor, head slowly tipping to one side as if lost in thought. 

“... you look like a’nangel, you do…” he slurred gently. “All… all.. Haloey and stuff…” he waved his hands at Aziraphale’s fluffy pale curls. Aziraphale blushed furiously and gulped down more champagne to hide his embarrassment. 

They’d staggered back to the taxi rank side by side, Crowley’s legs being rather more wobbly than usual, giving him a perfect excuse to let the handsome young blonde lend him his arm and help him down the road, basking in the closeness of feeling that beautiful body pressed close next to his. “Azir.. Azphl… Zrphl… damnit. Gonna call you Angel. That ok wif you, Angel?”

Aziraphale bit down on the urge to correct him, as he did with anyone who got his name wrong, but Crowley was so adorably tender about how he said it that he couldn’t resist. “Of course, Crowley. Better get you home though, you’re somewhat worse for wear, come on, we’re here…”

And then Aziraphale was pouring him into a taxi that’d take Crowley and a couple of his friends who hadn’t paired off, back to campus. Crowley waved out of the window at Aziraphale as they drove off, and saw a hesitant little wave back and a smile in response. He sat back on the seat glowing happily in a little bubble of contentment at the sight.

* * *

Over the next few months, they’d ended up bumping into each other fairly regularly, not entirely by accident. Crowley made sure he knew all the places in town that he was likely to see Aziraphale - the local Waterstones, the café, or hanging out at the park reading a book by the duck pond. 

Likewise, Aziraphale learned the places he was apt to find Crowley - doing part time work experience at the local garden centre and plant nursery, lounging at the bandstand knocking back cans of apple cider with his mates, or hanging out down the local supermarket car park of an evening watching the boy racers with their pimped out cars hanging out and comparing engine tuning. Crowley drove an old vauxhall nova, but said one day he’d make enough money to buy a Bentley, then he’d have made it. 

They’d eventually make a habit of meeting on purpose rather than by feigned accident. Crowley would sit and throw bread for the ducks while Aziraphale read or studied. They’d walk through the park and Crowley would point out how the trees and bushes had been pruned incorrectly, and practice naming the plants and flowers in the ornamental borders. 

If it turned wet, they’d hang out at the cafe, where Crowley slurped down coffee after coffee until he was almost buzzing with nervous energy, and watched as Aziraphale insisted on tasting every new cake variety in turn each week as the chef tried out new recipes. 

Sometimes Crowley would venture over to the University library on the pretext of finding horticultural books missing from their own college library, then lounge about in comfortable silence next to Aziraphale’s desk as he catalogued new books and stamped in then reshelved returned ones.

* * *

Crowley’s course was shorter than Aziraphale’s by a year and a half, so he was heading onto his first job while Aziraphale was still studying. He invited Aziraphale to join the rest of his class on their leaving party in town for one last drunken night out. 

They’d been chatting and laughing as usual, until Crowley had said something about gorillas. 

“They build nests, you know, gorillas.” Aziraphale had helpfully supplied. 

“Nah.”

“God’s truth. Saw a film. Nests.”

“That’s birds,” said Crowley. 

“Nests,” insisted Aziraphale. 

“You two bicker like an old married couple, you know that?” interjected Anathema, Newt sitting on her lap by this point. 

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other and giggled. 

“Tell ya what, Angel…” Crowley slurred.

“Mmmm?”

“If neither of us are married by the time we’re 40, let’s do it.”

Aziraphale stared at him, open mouthed, in surprise. 

“What, really?”

Crowley shrugged. 

“Why not?”

Aziraphale paused, then said, rather more quietly, “promise?”

Crowley looked at him steadily, suddenly serious. “Promise.”

Then Anathema was topping up their glasses and the rest of the group charged back making a racket that it was impossible to hear each other over, so they merely drained their glasses and continued as if nothing had happened. 

A few hours later and it was nearly chucking out time. Crowley had to bite the bullet.

“Gonna be leaving, Angel” Crowley muttered morosely over his cider as they sat side by side, watching the others gyrating on the dance floor. “Got a job at a plant nursery over near Tadfield. Rented a bedsit.” 

Aziraphale looked at him, wondering what to say. “Well we can keep in touch, write each other letters?” 

Crowley was relieved. “I’ll send you my address when I know the postcode, yeah?” He grinned a lopsided smile at his best friend. He still didn’t have the nerve to try anything else, he didn’t think that someone as posh as Aziraphale would ever be interested in a lanky jumped up gardener with permanent dirt ground in under his fingernails, and he’d never dare ruin their friendship by risking a kiss. Aziraphale had been there for him throughout all the difficult bits of college, cheering him up, supporting him when things were difficult, never judging him. 

At the end of the night, for the first time, Aziraphale hugged him goodbye, their eyes met, they each smiled, and then Newt was grabbing Crowley’s arm and dragging him off to the waiting taxi before they could say another word.

* * *

It was about a year later while Crowley was lugging a sack of compost off a pallet when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Crowley…?”

He looked up into that angelic face, then startled to see that Aziraphale was holding hands with a stranger, an older gent with long, foppish hair. “Uh, hi…” Crowley began. 

“Oh, where are my manners, Crowley, this is Oscar…” The older man reached out a friendly hand. Crowley dumped the bag of compost and shook it with stiff politeness. “Hi. What brings you here then?”

“Well we were driving through the area and I saw the sign for Tadfield and asked Oscar dear if we couldn’t just pop by and visit my old friend from University. I’m so glad you’re at work today. If you have a lunch break coming up we could maybe get something to eat and catch up?”

Crowley nodded, still rather shell shocked. “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Can knock off for twenty minutes now if you like?” He nodded toward the garden centre café. 

They ordered and Aziraphale prattled on about this and that, while Crowley bit his lip in frustration seeing Oscar’s hand settled on his angel’s on the tabletop. Presently, the older man stood and went to the bathroom. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. 

“So, how long you been with this guy then?”

Aziraphale smiled happily. “Oh he’s one of the mature students at Uni. We’ve been together a few months now. He’s ever so lovely.” He took in Crowley’s expression and hesitated. “You… you did _know_ I’m gay didn’t you, Crowley?” he looked unsure. 

Crowley shrugged and tried to play it cool. “Eh, I don’t mind, Aziraphale, you’re my best friend, you could be an aardvark for all I care, you’re still my best buddy. I just… “ How could he finish that sentence, _I wish I’d known for sure and we could have done something? You could have had me?_ Crowley didn’t know. He stumbled into silence. “He seems nice.” he finished lamely. 

Oscar was coming back to the table, he pressed a little kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s head. “We’d better be hitting the road again, Zira, got a long drive.” Crowley ground his teeth together, biting down on his jealousy, wondering how he dared call Aziraphale that, but Aziraphale looked happy. He should want his friend to be happy, why didn’t he? Oscar was reaching out his hand to Crowley again. “A pleasure to meet you, dear boy, perhaps you could visit us some time? It’s been a delight anyway, take care, old chap.”

Crowley shook the proffered hand stiffly, then rose, standing awkwardly before Aziraphale, aching to hug him again. He wondered if he should. Stuff it. He lunged forwards and wrapped his angel in a quick embrace. “Missed you, dude, see you again, make it soon, yeah?” Then he placed his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders with a pat, gazed at him a second, and let go. Aziraphale smiled awkwardly, then Oscar was taking his arm and leading him back to the car park, and back out of Crowley’s life again.

* * *

A couple of years later and Crowley had moved jobs, he was now one of a team of gardeners at the residence of the American Ambassador in London. He’d kept in touch by letter with Aziraphale, although over time their correspondence had petered out into a couple of times a year, with regular birthday and christmas cards of course. The angel was living in Cambridge with Oscar. Crowley hadn’t visited. He couldn’t bear the sight of them together. Safer to keep a distance. 

But then at 3am one night, his phone rang, jangling him awake with a start. He picked up the receiver. “Uh, hi?”

“Crowely…” Aziraphale’s familiar voice sobbed down the line at him. 

“Aziraphale? What time is it? What’s wrong?”

“Oh I am most dreadfully sorry to call you so late, but I didn’t have anyone else I could talk to…” His voice cracked into a sob at that point and Crowley desperately wished he could fly through the phone line to wrap his friend in his arms and soothe his hurts away. 

“What is it, Angel? What’s wrong? You can tell me, you know that.”

“Oscar dumped me. It turns out he was sleeping with another man, he kicked me out, I’m back at my parent’s house and of course they’re laying into me, they knew about Oscar and they don’t approve, they said it serves me right for sleeping with a man and that I should just find myself a nice girlfriend, and honestly right now I can almost see their point.” He broke into fresh bouts of tears, sniffling and gasping as he cried his heart out down the phone line. 

“Oh, Angel, don’t say that. You’re too good for that bastard, you deserve better than him, he never deserved you at all, Aziraphale. And tell your parents to go screw themselves.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “That’s all very easy for you to say, you don’t have to live with yours. It’s more complicated than that.”

“I know, I know. But don’t doubt yourself, Angel, you’re special, you deserve the best, and Oscar’s clearly an idiot if he couldn’t see that. You’re better off without him.”

“Oh Crowley, you really are a dear, you know that? I’m so glad I’ve got you to talk to.”

Crowley bit his lip, then continued to chat to Aziraphale until the sun came up, and he had stopped crying and begun at least to laugh here and there.

* * *

The next letter from Aziraphale was telling Crowley that he was off to Rome to take up a position in the Vatican under the head archivist there, working on restoring old religious texts. “You really must visit me out there at some point, they have the most delectable restaurants. I can’t wait to get my teeth stuck into my new job, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, it’s what I’ve trained for all these years. I’m so glad to hear about your new job as well at the National Trust place, it must be thrilling to be head gardener at last.”

Crowley had tried dating in Aziraphale’s absence. He’d had a few one night stands, a few short term relationships, guys and girls, but nothing was ever good enough. None could compare to his angel. He’d persevered nonetheless. 

He’d met Shadwell, a handsome younger dark haired guy with blue eyes, and a Lance-corporal in the Territorial Army, working part time at a newsagents the rest of the time. They’d got a flat together above the newsagents, and while they were happy, Crowley still felt like he was missing something. 

Then one day, Shadwell had said they were taking a week away, a surprise getaway, to pack his bag and they’d jet off somewhere for a few days. When they got to the airport, he’d taken a pair of plane tickets out of his pocket and waved them under Crowley’s nose. “Rome! Most romantic city in the world.” Then stopped and looked puzzled over Crowely’s expression. “What?”

Crowley had frozen, a pained look on his face. Of all the places in the world why did it have to be Rome? Where his angel was now, unattainable, untouchable, unavailable, and wrapped up in his new career. He struggled to think of what to say. “Uh…” Shadwell raised an eyebrow. “That’s great, hun, just a bit of a surprise, that’s all.” He embraced his lover and tried to hide the tears stinging at his eyes. 

At the hotel room, he’d dug out Aziraphale’s number and called him. 

“Salve?”

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley? I haven’t talked to you in ages, how are you my dear boy?”

“Uh, good, good, I, um, I’m in Rome. Bit of a surprise really, hadn’t planned it, fancy meeting up sometime? We’re here for the week, with Shadwell.” He cringed slightly, but he couldn’t very well hide the fact he was here with Shadwell. He tried to play it cool. After all, Aziraphale had dropped in on him with Oscar with no warning, the least he could do was let him know in advance. 

“Shadwell?”  
  


“Uh, he’s my, um, boyfriend, kind of… Sorry I never mentioned him, didn’t seem important before.”

“Well I’d be delighted to meet him, and to see you again, dear boy. There’s a most delightful restaurant around the corner where I’m told they do remarkable things with oysters. Shall we meet there, say, 7pm tomorrow night? My treat.”

“I’ve never eaten an oyster. Sure thing, what’s the address?”

Aziraphale had been the epitome of politeness. He’d shaken Shadwell’s hand and translated the menu for them. Crowley sensed a certain surly attitude from Shadwell toward Aziraphale, maybe he guessed that there was an atmosphere there between them, and struggled to keep conversation flowing with the awkward silences. 

At the end of the evening, they’d sat on a bench in one of many plazas, watching water splash in the fountain as other tourists ambled past. Shadwell wandered off to get some photos of the beautifully lit buildings, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale alone together on the bench. 

“He seems nice” said Aziraphale after a moment. 

Crowley gave a pained smile. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

Crowley met his gaze. He held it just a little too long. Searching each other’s eyes, everything that Crowley wanted to say remained unsaid, but somehow he could see that Aziraphale understood. 

_It should have been you._

He couldn’t say it. 

_But it isn’t. It didn’t happen that way._

He bit his lip. 

_Is it what you want too?_

Aziraphale’s hand briefly touched his on the bench between them, then withdrew again. They didn’t need the words. 

_I’ll wait for you._

Aziraphale gave a little half smile, then looked up as Shadwell stomped back to them and sat down between them, wrapping his arm around Crowley’s slim waist. 

They’d said Ciao, and that was it for another few years.

* * *

Crowley knew that Shadwell was bisexual as well, but he hadn’t expected him to take up with Tracey across the hall from them. Tracey was lovely, don’t get him wrong. She’d sometimes cook for them and help with this and that. But he’d never seen it coming that the two of them would get it together, until he’d come home one day to an empty flat, and heard the distinct sound of spanking, and his own boyfriend screaming out in pleasure from Tracey’s flat. The door hadn’t been locked. Crowley went in, saw Shadwell’s clothing lying on the living room floor and left it at that. He didn’t need to see more, he walked out, wrote a note, left it on the kitchen counter, packed up his meagre belongings and left. 

The National Trust job had an optional perk he could make use of - a small apartment for on site staff at a preferential rent, so he moved in there, alone, heartbroken, but somehow feeling free. Freer than he had in ages. 

A year or so later, he got a letter from Aziraphale. He was coming back to London to take up a post at the British Museum, a similar role to the one he’d had at the Vatican. “I miss England so much, and haven’t had a decent bit of roast beef in years, it’ll be good to be back home again. I’m renting a place in Soho, a flat above a bookshop. You should come and visit.”

Crowley decided he should. He had a friend, a former colleague from the Dowling residence where he used to work at the American Ambassador’s house, who had a flat in Mayfair. He’d ask if he could stay over with him for a weekend. 

He’d met up with Aziraphale in St. James’s park, they’d sat as they used to when they were at College, basking in the sun, reading and feeding the ducks. Crowley told Aziraphale about Shadwell, they compared notes on cheating boyfriends, and after a while they laughed again. 

They’d gone to the theatre together, ate at a nice sushi restaurant that Aziraphale had found, then the next day went back to the park again for a picnic. They chatted about everything and nothing. Crowley hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. Eventually he found himself lying flat on the tartan picnic blanket in the sunshine, his head on his friend’s lap as Aziraphale read his book and nibbled at a brioche. 

Crowley flinched slightly and then relaxed as he felt Aziraphale’s fingers begin to gently stroke through his red hair. It was nice. He didn’t say anything, for fear of spoiling the moment. He closed his eyes and dozed off in contentment. 

The weekend was over too quickly. They started writing to each other more often again, and Crowley began checking the classified adverts for jobs in central London. Eventually a position came up for the Royal Parks Commission. It’d take a miracle to make it to the final selection in the interviews process, but he had a good CV with plenty of high ranking experience. He was pretty shocked when he was actually offered the position, and called Aziraphale, excited to share the news. 

“You’re moving back to London? Crowley, that’s fabulous news!”

Crowley grinned happily. “Yeah, finally both of us living and working in the same damn place at last, will get to hang out properly again after all this time.”

“I’d like that. Do let me know if you need help moving, dear boy.”

“That’d be great, you’re probably still stronger than me, remember that time you just hoisted me up in a fireman’s lift when we were at college?”

“Oh I doubt that, you’re out working outdoors all day and heavy lifting, I bet you could lift me nowadays.”

“Well I’ll see you next week, I’ll give it a try” Crowley laughed. 

Aziraphale was as good as his word, and turned up to help Crowley move packing boxes up the stairs into his new flat. The pair of them getting thoroughly hot, dusty and sweaty by the time the job was done. They stood in the doorway, looking at the pile of unpacked boxes, breathing heavily. Crowley shot a sneaky sidelong glance at Aziraphale. He was in his usual pale blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscular forearms. A shiver shot down Crowley’s spine at the sight. “Thanks for that. Got a bet to settle you know…”

Aziraphale looked confused for a second then he emitted a sharp yelp of surprise as Crowley suddenly swept him off his feet, twirled him around once then set him down again. “You’re right, I can lift you too,” he said with a grin. He still had his hands around Aziraphale’s waist, and didn’t feel like letting go just yet. They were in each other’s personal space, still breathing hard. Their eyes met and Crowley knew then he couldn’t let go. Aziraphale’s eyes were soft and his lips parted gently, gazing up at him, his hand on Crowley’s arm. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to dip down to press their lips together. 

Aziraphale melted into his embrace completely, holding him tight, kissing with an urgency borne of years of frustration, finally allowed free rein to express himself. They broke off, laughing with relief that they’d finally seen what they should have been doing all along, foreheads touching, still wrapped tight in each other’s arms. “I think we need a shower, Angel” Crowley whispered with a wink. “Join me?” Aziraphale nodded eagerly, then kissed him again. 

Crowely led the way to the bathroom, once in, he closed the door and pulled his sweaty t-shirt off his lean torso as Aziraphale watched hungrily, then reached out to unbutton his angel’s shirt, then his hands skimmed up his exposed chest, through the dusting of pale curls there, up to his shoulders, and pushed his shirt off and to the floor. 

Crowley gazed, rapt, at the beauty before him, breathless. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently. Aziraphale looked down and brought his arms in front of his stomach self consciously. 

“I…I’m nearly 40, I’m fat, I’m unfit, I’m… ” he stammered, uncertainly. Crowely gently took both of his wrists and drew his arms away.

“No, don’t hide, I’m not joking, Angel, you _are_ beautiful. Every inch of you.” He bent forward and pressed a kiss to the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, breathing in the comforting musky scent there from their exertions unloading the moving van. He felt his love shudder with delight under his caresses, eyelids fluttering shut. 

“Oh, Crowley, darling…” Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley’s neck and kissed him back there, then licked up his sweat-salt skin, worshipping that beautiful long throat with a moan. Crowley pressed their bodies closer together, his need hard between them. 

“Want you, Angel…” he murmured into Aziraphale’s neck, then sucked an urgent, needy mark into his skin there, groaning in pleasure as he did. Aziraphale dragged his finely manicured nails down Crowley’s back, pulling him closer still. 

“I want you, too, my love. Oh _Crowley_ . Why did we wait so long?” He fumbled at Crowley’s tight jeans, struggling, until Crowley’s hands came down to assist, unzipping then shoving them down unceremoniously, taking his underwear with them. Then Aziraphale’s hands were on him, grasping gently, stroking and making Crowley shudder in delight. “Oh Crowley, you’re _perfect_ , my love.” 

Crowley stood, watching Aziraphale’s expression as he stroked Crowley between them, amazed that it had come to this at last, fascinated by the adoration on his angel’s face. His hands fell to his sides, fluttering uncertainly, rocking gently on the balls of his feet as the sensations coursed through his body. He needed to touch his love again, he reached out to tug at Aziraphale’s trousers, undoing them and letting them fall to the floor. 

He rubbed at Aziraphale’s hardness through his underwear, causing his angel to half collapse forward onto his shoulder where he bit into Crowley’s flesh gently with a growl. He unhanded Crowley for a moment, long enough to shove his own underwear down and off, while Crowley took advantage of the hiatus to kick his own clothing off his lower legs and feet before stepping forward again to yank Aziraphale into a passionate kiss, grabbing the back of his head and holding him tight, tongue pushing into his mouth urgently. Aziraphale’s hips ground against him fervently, rubbing their erections together between them. 

Crowley released him and rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s for a moment, their eyes locked. “What do you want, Angel? Anything you want, tell me.” he whispered, caressing his love’s cheek gently. “Tell me.”

Aziraphale reached up to brush his thumb over Crowley’s lips, wondering at their softness. “I think, perhaps a slight change of plan and a diversion to the bedroom first before the shower.” He paused a moment, eyes flicking in uncertainty. “I… I got tested, after Oscar, I mean, all clear, I haven’t been with anyone since…” he raised a worried, questioning eyebrow at Crowley, who smiled nervously. 

“Yeah me too, after that cheating bastard Shadwell, I’m good, Angel, but I’ve got condoms if you prefer anyway?”

Aziraphale shook his head, then smiled down at Crowley’s intimidating length. “But some lube will definitely be in order, if you’ve unpacked any yet?”

Crowley swore and fumbled quickly in a box that had been flung in the bathroom for unpacking into the cabinet there, emerging triumphantly with the article in question with a nervous laugh. “Got you covered, Angel.” He led them back to the bedroom where the mattress sat on the bed frame, unmade as yet. He grabbed a blanket and flung it on the bed as a stopgap. “Not the most romantic or glamorous arrangement, I’m afraid. I’d prefer to have it all surrounded with scented candles and rose petals for you, but I didn’t exactly plan this seduction very well.”

Aziraphale laughed and pulled him close into a kiss again, before pulling him down onto the bed with a giggle. “So, Angel, you didn’t answer, what can I do for you, beautiful?” Crowley whispered, planting a flurry of kisses across Aziraphale’s face and neck. 

Aziraphale hesitated, shy now that his best friend was asking how he’d like to be made love to, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and scare him off. “What would you like to do to me, Crowley?”

Crowley chuckled and continued to kiss his way down onto Aziraphale’s neck. “Nuh-uh, that’s not how this works, love. You tell me. I don’t want you agreeing to something you don’t enjoy just because you want to please me, I want to know what you _want_ , gorgeous.”

Aziraphale was blushing furiously, Crowley’s hand was on him now, stroking gently as he gazed up into his nervous blue eyes, waiting for an answer patiently with a fond smile on his face. “I, I’d like you, um, inside me, please, Crowley?” Azirapahle stammered out. Crowley rose up and stilled his lips with a feather light kiss. 

“Of course, my love.” He laid a steadying hand down on his angel’s quivering stomach to soothe his nerves, then reached for the bottle of lube and spread some on his fingers, laying himself down next to Aziraphale, kissing his middle, then brought his hand under his thigh to prepare him, slow and gentle, wringing soft moans from Aziraphale’s lips as he did. 

“Oh Crowley, your hands are so _sinfully_ clever, darling. Did you sign a deal with the devil for those talented long fingers, my love?” Crowley chuckled and wriggled them a little more, making his lover gasp and writhe on the bed “Maybe, Angel. I can do really weird things with my tongue as well....” He grinned wickedly, and licked a stripe up Aziraphale’s shaft, swirled his tongue around the tip and then took the whole thing deep into his mouth in one go, gratified to hear Aziraphale cry out in response, hips lifting off the bed reflexively 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley, busy with hands and mouth on him and in him, dizzy from the surging sensations, and stroked his lover’s shock of short red hair in wonder. “Crowley, dearest, please, I need more of you, I’m ready, love.”

Crowley lifted off and met his gaze. “You’re sure, Angel?” Aziraphale nodded. 

“Just go gentle to start with, you’re a little intimidating.” he smiled, stroking his hands through Crowley’s soft hair. 

Crowley reached for the lube bottle again to make sure he was well prepared, then lifted himself between Aziraphale’s legs, pressing forward gently, bending down to kiss his angel softly as he pushed forth, careful to go as gently as possible to give him time to acclimatise to the sensation. “Is this ok, love?” he murmured in Azirpahale’s ear. 

“Mmmm, absolutely, darling. You can go further, I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.” Aziraphale ran his hands lightly up and down Crowley’s back, marvelling at the wonder of having the man he’d pined for for so long finally wrapped in his arms, loving him, _making_ love to him, it felt so beyond right that he thought his heart would break from happiness. 

Crowley sank deeper with a contented sigh, arms shaking with effort of restraint, wanting nothing more than to plunge deeper into his lover, but knowing he had to take things steady. He was the epitome of gentleness as he worked himself in, pressing fluttering kisses to Aziraphale’s neck and face as he did. Once he was bottomed out, he lay there a moment, holding his angel close, breath uneven, recollecting his senses as Aziraphale kissed his cheek sweetly. 

Crowley took a breath and met his lover’s gaze. “Is this ok?” Aziraphale nodded happily, and wriggled his hips encouragingly at him. Crowley nodded, and began to gently roll his hips, dragging delightful sensations out into Aziraphale’s body, firing off nerve endings deep inside that made him tip his head back and blaspheme at the ceiling. 

He set a slow rhythm, revelling in the glorious hot tightness of his lover, gritting his teeth to hold back, to draw this out and make it special for Aziraphale. He didn’t want to lose control of himself just yet. Crowley hefted himself up on one elbow, and brought his other hand down between them to take Aziraphale in hand with long, smooth strokes of his skilled and surprisingly gentle hand, drawing more sweet sounds from his angel’s lips in stuttering gasps and broken syllables. He grinned to himself with satisfaction. 

Aziraphale’s legs came up around Crowley’s hips and he locked his ankles around him, pulling him in and encouraging him to speed up. Crowley grunted and complied, feeling Aziraphale’s body beginning to quiver underneath him, his muscles growing taut with impending release, and gripped him a little firmer with each stroke, until his angel was shuddering and crying out, spurting his release between them, clamping down hard around Crowley and pushing him over the edge too, falling forward into his lover’s arms as he gasped out, shaking hard and twitching his own release, almost crying with the intensity of the sensation. 

They lay there for a little while, regaining their breath, hot, sweaty, sticky, and satisfied. Crowley turned his head to meet Aziraphale’s gaze with a ridiculously happy grin plastered across his face. “We definitely need that shower now, Angel.”

They showered, dug out the sheets and duvet to make the bed properly, then climbed into it to snuggle, leaving the rest of the unpacking for the morning.

* * *

The next few months they spent each night at each other’s flats, alternating depending on what they’d been up to, until it just felt right to abandon paying two sets of rent, and Crowley moved in with Aziraphale above the bookshop. The owner of the bookshop was wanting to retire and sell up, which gave Aziraphale an opportunity he’d dreamed of for years. He had some savings put by, and between him and Crowley they were able to put an offer in to buy it as an ongoing concern. Aziraphale began to split his work between there and the Museum, going part time and working from home in the afternoons so he could run the bookshop as well. 

As Aziraphale’s 40th birthday drew closer, Crowley found himself thinking more and more about that fateful night at college, and what they’d said. He wondered if Aziraphale had forgotten. Crowley very definitely hadn’t. Barely a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought of it, it was all he ever wanted, his angel, to himself, to love forever. 

Crowley set about on a little personal project at work. In a corner of Hyde Park that needed revamping, he began a bit of replanting. He was in charge now and had free rein to arrange and maintain floral borders and other areas in the parks, so used his knowledge to make something that would be special to him, but also appreciated by the general public for years to come. And if anyone other than the intended recipient of the work should figure out the meaning, then he’d count it as a bonus, it’d probably become a popular spot for people and bring a little happiness into the world. 

He then spent some time browsing in Aziraphale’s bookshop, but couldn’t find exactly what he wanted there, so set about exploring other antique bookshops until he did. It was better that way anyway, he wanted to be able to buy his angel the book, not present him with one of his own. 

“Got something special planned for your birthday, Angel.” Crowley told him over breakfast the day before. “It’s ‘bring your handsome lover to work day’” he winked at him. 

Aziraphale snorted in amusement. “You want me to come to work with you? Why?” 

“Told you, it’s ‘bring your handsome lover to work day’, gotta bring _someone_ , Angel, probably best be you, really.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at him, but figured that Crowley had his reasons. 

The next day Crowley drove them out to Hyde Park in one of the liveried work vans, meaning he could drive it right into the park and get them closer to the section he’d staked out as his own for the project. A colleague stopped them at the gate. “Thought you were off today, boss?” Crowley sighed, but his angel probably knew by now that this wasn’t really a work thing anyway so it wasn’t much of a spoiler.

“Yeah, showing Aziraphale the new thing.”

His colleague blushed. “Shit, sorry boss, I forgot, have fun, see you later, yeah?” He winked with a grin. 

Aziraphale knew that some kind of birthday surprise was in store, but nonetheless felt excited to see what his love had planned for him. It wasn’t going to be what he expected. 

Crowley parked up and led him to an area that had been replanted and had time for the plants to settle in. He shook out a picnic blanket and dragged some carrier bags of food and drink from the back of the van to lay out. Aziraphale admired the surroundings politely. “Pretty” he commented, unsure what else was expected of him. Crowley grinned knowingly. 

“Oh this isn’t all, love. Happy birthday.” He handed over a tiny wrapped gift. Aziraphale sat down and opened it carefully. It was a small book in dark green canvas covers elaborately inlaid with beautiful black and gilt debossed lettering and floral illustrations, titled “The Language Of Flowers Illustrated.” It was clearly very old, probably from the 1800s. The edges of the pages were gilded in shimmering gold leaf, and when he opened it, he discovered a multitude of hand-coloured plates in delicate pastel shades, along with the text explaining the meaning behind each one. It was an exquisite little volume. 

“Oh Crowley, it's terribly pretty, thank you.”

Crowley grinned and selected some nibbles to place on a paper plate for him. “Oh that’s not all, Angel. Have a bite then take a read.” He handed the plate over with an excited grin. 

Aziraphale chewed and wondered what was so exciting about the little book. It wasn’t particularly valuable or rare, but Crowley seemed excessively enamoured with it, so he thought he should indulge him. It was a peculiar gift, but he’d take a read as he relaxed with some sandwiches. 

After they’d finished the savoury selection, Crowley brought out a tin and lifted the lid, revealing a home-made cake. It was decorated with hand made icing flowers resembling orange blossoms. The cake was a delicate citrus orange creme filled sponge. “I didn’t want to put 40 candles on it though, it’d spoil the look, so just one for you.” Crowley grinned and lit the candle. 

As they tucked into the cake, Crowley looked at Aziraphale over the top of his shades. “Learned anything interesting from the book yet then?” He allowed his gaze to sweep around the vegetation surrounding them. Aziraphale looked blank for a moment before realisation dawned, his jaw dropped and he began to actually look around the spot where they were sitting. 

He stood up and inspected a couple of the flowers, then referred back to the book, a smile slowly suffusing his face. “Rose: love at first sight, Lily of the valley: return to happiness, you’ve made my life complete, Peony: happy marriage and… ‘gay life’?” he laughed, then continued. “Ivy: friendship, affection, wedded love, Myrtle: love and marriage… What’s this one, Crowley?”

Crowley glanced at the plant his angel was indicating and couldn’t identify. “That one’s a spider flower.” 

Aziraphale looked it up. “Elope with me.”

Crowley picked up the sprig of orange blossom icing flowers from the top of the cake. “Couldn’t plant this one: orange blossom.” He looked up at Aziraphale, who consulted the little book. 

“Eternal love and marriage.” He looked down at Crowley, who was now kneeling, holding a ring box in his hands. 

“I promised you, Angel, that if neither of us were married by the time we were 40, that I’d marry you, remember?”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped in surprise. “I, I…” He stuttered, stopped, swallowed, and tried again, his mouth dry. “I… I do remember. I thought you had forgotten, it was a drunken night in a bar, what, twenty-two years ago?” 

“I made a promise, Angel. I meant it. I love you, I’ve always loved you, I always will. You’re my best friend, and the one true constant in my life. You’ve always been there for me, and I always want to be there for you. Will you marry me, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale fell to his knees in front of Crowley and kissed him, hands in his hair, slow and tender, his head spinning. He broke off and gazed into his true love’s eyes. So light hazel they were almost golden. “I love you too, Crowley, I have since the moment I first met you, of course I’ll marry you, my darling.” He looked at the ring, a small gold band with a tiny diamond chip wreathed in engraved flowers and leaves matching those surrounding them, that wound around the ring. “It’s beautiful, Crowely, just like you.”

Crowley removed it from the box and slid it onto his angel’s finger tenderly, then lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Angel. I’m sorry I didn’t do this years ago, but I’m yours now, and forever.”

They got permission to have the ceremony in that corner of the park. Others did eventually figure out the significance of the planting, and it became known as “proposal corner.” They may have shared it with the rest of the world, but it would be forever theirs.

  



End file.
